


Tense Terms

by ElwritesFanworks



Series: [♦/♠] Sex, Violence, and the Midnight Crew [3]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: 1940s, Amputation, Anal Fingering, Anger, Blood, Bloodplay, Bodily Fluids, Boss/Employee Relationship, Boundaries, Broken Bones, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emetophilia, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Gag reflex, Humiliation, Jealousy, Knives, M/M, Masochism, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Sadism, Slick sleeps around, Threats, Unhealthy Relationships, Urination, Urine, Verbal Abuse, Vomiting, Wet & Messy, extreme masochism, extreme sadism, failed conversations, finger fucking with your own severed finger, threatening people with knives, vintage technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElwritesFanworks/pseuds/ElwritesFanworks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Droog wants things he doesn't know how to ask for. Slick asks for things he doesn't know he wants.<br/>Decisions need to be made. Compromise isn't in either of their natures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hesitating with this fic, a bit, because it's getting too wordy, in the later chapters. I think the first one is okay though, so I'm posting it now and will add the rest soon, once I've got it under control.

* * *

  
Droog shifted in his seat, the words of the Midnight City newspaper unfocused before his eyes. It had been two weeks since Slick had shown him his knives in an intimate setting, and he was... antsy. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the prickle of desire that had taken root in his gut, and the whole thing was getting damned uncomfortable.  
  
He was trying to keep it under wraps, trying to keep himself ever the dutiful subordinate, to set an example for Boxcars and Deuce, who, at the moment, were sitting on the other side of the room, playing checkers. His glowering alerted Deuce, who was the more observant of the two, to his presence, and the smallest crewmember tugged lightly on Boxcar's sleeve and jerked his head in Droog's direction.   
  
"What is it, Droog?" Boxcars asked in his deep rumble of a voice, his attention gone from his game. Deuce's piece got to the end of the board and he poked Boxcars in the knee.   
  
"King me!" Boxcars ignored him. Droog was giving him a murderous glare, which was not usually a good sign.   
  
"It's getting late. Where the hell is Slick?" Droog growled.   
  
"Out," Deuce piped up. "Hearts, king me!"   
  
"Out? Out where?"   
  
"On the town. Said he was meetin' some dame," Boxcars replied, moving to king Deuce's checker.   
  
"Some dame - who the fuck does he think he is! We could be - scheming. And planning. And he's out trying to STICK IT IN SOME DAME!?! WHY AM I THE LAST TO KNOW ABOUT EVERYTHING IN THIS DAMN CREW? IS IT SO HARD FOR YOU TWO TO ACTUALLY BE HELPFUL FOR ONCE IN YOUR PATHETIC LIVES?"   
  
It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Boxcars looked like he wanted to say something; Deuce just looked scared. Swearing, Droog lept to his feet and slammed the newspaper down on the table making Deuce flinch, which upset the checkerboard.   
  
"Where are you goin'?" Boxcars asked, bending over to reset the checkerboard.   
  
"What are you, my wife? I'm going to bed!" Droog snarled and stomped out the door. Once he was safely back at his own quarters, he locked himself in his bedroom and threw himself down on the bed.   
  
"Fuck Slick, anyway," he spat. "Where does he get off running around town with strange women? Some dame... fat lotta good she'll do him, unless she's into getting cut up."   
  
His mood was absolutely toxic now, and anger built up within him like hot water bubbling up in a pot. Scowling, he reached for his latest issue of The Gray Ladies and stared at their colorless bodies, flushed grey with embarrassment and arousal at being put on display for the enjoyment of men like Droog. That used to be enough to get him hard but now it just made him angry. Furious, he balled up the pornography and threw it across the room.  
  
Lying on his back, he shut his eyes and the plain view of the ceiling was replaced by something much more interesting.   
  
Slick, bound, at Droog's mercy.   
  
He could picture his boss perfectly, ready for a suitable punishment for his tryst with his nameless broad, his slim body bent at odd angles as he struggled, hogtied, his face mashed into the living room carpet. He imagined the fear and the rage and the shame he could force Slick to feel, imagined dragging him by the tie over the carpet, flipping him onto his back, striking him, spanking him, stepping hard on his crotch, making him cry.   
  
He imagined taking a cigarette and - no, no, a brand, _nngh... fuck yes,_ an actual brand - and taking complete ownership of the smaller male. See how he'd like having his plating ripped off and having DD burned into his tender skin.   
  
Droog was definitely hard now. He opened his pants and spat hastily into his palm before taking himself in hand. Yes, Slick at his mercy. It was next to impossible that such a thing would ever happen in Droog's lifetime. Slick was unbreakable. He'd never submit fully, but Droog was able to envision it just fine and it was tantalizing.   
  
As he stroked himself, the images in his mind began to change, blurring and merging in a panorama of sexual brutality, and sensations: the smell of blood, the feel of sharp bursts of pain, the power of domination, the taste of his own flesh, until suddenly he realized the figure he saw, bound and struggling, was himself, and the brand on that raw, quivering buttock read SS, and wasn't a brand at all, but rather a cut made with deft, near-surgical precision.   
  
That was a sobering thought and his eyes flew open, hands darting away from his groin. Diamonds Droog didn't belong to anybody, least of all his damn boss! He felt sick and disgusted with himself.   
  
"All this shit with Slick is messing with me," he stated and grimaced down at his slowly wilting erection, hands balled firmly at his sides.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Slick got back to the hideout long after he expected everyone to be in bed. He was a bit drunk, a bit sleepy, a bit hungry, and a whole lot happy. His date had been surprisingly entertaining, good at dancing, and willing to put out once she got over her fear of his new teeth. There was quite literally lipstick on his collar and he felt like the cat that got the cream. He hummed as he hung up his jacket.

His good mood dampened when he walked to the kitchen to grab a late snack and found Droog sitting in the dark, glaring at him.

"You sure know how to scare a guy to death. How long have you been there?" Slick chuckled, retrieving a block of cheese from the icebox and slicing himself a morsel with his trusty blade. He popped it into his mouth and grinned. Droog just glowered at him. "Not talking tonight, are we? That's fine."

Droog was grinding his teeth loud enough that Slick could hear it. Another man might be afraid to provoke him, but baiting Droog was one of Slick's regular hobbies, and he was too drunk to consider the consequences.

"You won't pull me down with you, misery-guts. My night was the absolute tops. Anyway, if you want attention, you're not gonna get it this way - I'm used to your tantrums, Diamonds."

"Don't call me that." Slick looked over, another slice of cheese half way to his mouth. Droog was staring hard at the tabletop now. He looked like shit.

"Why shouldn't I? Hell, if it bothers you, I might just do it out of spite. What the fuck's the matter with you, anyway?" When Droog didn't respond, Slick set his snack aside and wiped his knife on his sleeve. He marched over and stuck it under Droog's chin, tilting his face upwards.

"What's wrong, Diiiiiaaaaaamoooonds?"

Under the saccharine fondness in his tone was a sharp note of anger - Slick didn't tolerate insubordination. To punctuate his point, Slick dragged the tip of his knife along Droog's cheekbone, as tenderly as any lover's touch. Droog shivered, cursed, and all of a sudden there was pain, shooting pain, tearing through Slick's arm. He stared down at his hand, blinking. The booze was dulling his pain but even he could see that Droog had broken one of his fingers.

He didn't have long to think of it before he was being hauled over to the oven, Droog's grip bruising and agonizing on his wounded hand. Droog bent him over the stovetop and wrenched his arms backward above his head, with one hand, the other shoving him down, face-first, by the neck. Slick struggled like a fish on a line, throwing his full weight against the unwelcome hold.

"What the fuck?" he snapped, trying to kick at Droog's legs, which just set him further off balance, making him grind his face against the stove.

"Where were you? Boxcars said you were with some dame!" Droog hissed, leaning heavily on the smaller male to stop his struggling.

"Sounds like... you just... answered your own... ah, fuck... question. Let go a' me!"

In response, Droog turned on one of the elements, which roared to life next to Slick's face.

"Tell me the bitch's name," Droog hissed, and tried to force Slick closer to the flame. He yelped and struggled, twisting and turning in Droog's grip. His collar caught fire, the lipstick of the mystery woman going up in smoke. Contorting himself into a most unnatural shape, Slick sunk his knifeblade teeth into Droog's arm, catching him between his plates, making him shout and loosen his grip. Slick took the opportunity to yank himself free and run to the sink to splash water on his smoking shirt. He hissed as the icy liquid hit his neck - he had gotten a slight burn - and turned to face Droog.

"The hell was that for?" Slick burst out, hand clasped to the side of his throat. Droog opened his mouth to reply, and found he didn't have any words. He shrugged and turned off the stove. Slick grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

"Don't fucking ignore me!" he snapped. "If you're cracking up, you better tell me before I force it outta you!"

"What, we fucked around and now you want to have heart-to-heart conversations with me? How cute," Droog sneered.

"Is that what's causing all this bullshit? In case you forgot, Droog, I'm your boss - it's my damn job to know what's going on under your stupid hat. Fuck, if I'd a' known you'd turn into such a damn pussy, I wouldn't a' sucked you off."

Droog swung at him but Slick was faster, dodging his fist and collecting his knife, which he'd dropped in the earlier scuffle. He turned back around and held the blade to Droog's throat, forcing him to back up, until his back hit the wall and he was cornered.

"I have one night off where I'm not thinking of our damn schemes and you just ruined it, you stupid fuck! I don't take kindly to havin' my nights ruined by fancy idiots in pricey threads. I don't have time for this moody fucking around - if you have a point, you'd better fucking make it because I'm going to - mmph!"

Slick's words died in his throat as Droog dragged him close, his hands balling up in his boss's singed shirt and tie. Droog was giving the kiss everything he had, his tongue impaling itself on the spikes in Slick's mouth, blood filling their oral cavities and spilling down their chins. Slick's blade nicked him by accident but the pain only spurred him on further as he tore his flesh open on his fuck-buddy's teeth. When Droog pulled back, he gulped down lungfuls of air, his face slick with saliva and blood. Slick stared at him.

"Fuck. You are cracking up."

Droog winced when Slick's uninjured hand came up to trail over his face, drawing gentle patterns in the sticky redness that spread from his lips. When Slick spoke, his voice was low and rough with lust.

"Take your shirt off." Droog swallowed and felt for the buttons of his shirt. His hands were - his whole body was shaking. He was so aroused he felt sure that his boss could smell it on him. His chest rose and fell, cool in the night air. Slick tugged at the bandages there and Droog took the hint, removing the final barrier between Slick and his wounds. The bare squares of plateless flesh felt warmer than the surrounding carapace. Slick touched the scars that criss-crossed the area, following them with his fingertips.

"What do you want to do?" he asked, and when Droog hesitated, he dug his fingertips into the healing flesh, making his subordinate groan. "I could open you back up, give you a little Droog steak for a midnight snack..."

"Wanna fuck you," Droog managed. It felt like his throat had closed up around the words. Slick nodded and reached to remove his teeth only to have Droog shake his head.

"Not your mouth." Slick's eyes narrowed.

"No."

"Slick -"

"Those aren't our terms."

"We never discussed any fucking terms!"

"No, Droog."

Slick's tone had gone from intimate to icy in a matter of seconds.

"Why not?" Droog challenged.

"I don't bottom, especially not for people who work for me."

"You don't call me fucking your toothless mouth bottoming?"

"Not when I volunteer for it, no. Do I hafta beat it into your thick skull or what? Learn your fuckin' place."

Droog gaped at him. Slick shook his head and turned to leave, muttering to himself. Droog's hand shot out and grabbed him by the throat, his fingers digging into the fresh burn. Slick's shout was cut off with the pressure on his windpipe. Droog gained the upper hand, shoving the smaller male against the wall hard enough to hurt.

"Don't you dare talk down to me, fuckface!" Droog snarled, his eyes blazing with rage. "You are only the boss of this rabble of idiots because I let you be - if I wanted to, I could break you into a million tiny pieces. That's not the last of it, either - no one would stop me, see. No one likes you, Slick. No one! You talk and you wave your little knives around but you're a fucking child compared to me, you immature prick! So go on and tell me again about my place and GIVE ME AN EXCUSE TO TEAR YOUR FUCKING THROAT OUT!"

Droog shook with anger, waiting for Slick to fire back with some stupid retort that never came. His boss stared at him with saucer eyes, his mouth open in shock. Slowly an incredulousness appeared across his face and he began to frown.

"You just made a mistake, pal," he hissed. "You want a lesson in discipline, you're gonna fucking get it. I'm gonna make it so's you're shitting blood for a week!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys are getting up to trouble again, as you can see. I will be posting more as soon as I get a moment, as I am in the thick of exams right now.
> 
> There WILL be smut, but they just had to get the talking out of their systems, lol. Hope you're enjoying it so far! n_n
> 
> Also I know technically carapace anatomy doesn't include finger bones, but I wrote it how I wrote it. Call it artistic liberties or something. :P Also idk if they have an icebox, but I'm sticking it in because it works with the flow I'm trying to achieve - a kind of old-timey vibe. Hope it's working for you guys. :P


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ALL THE KINKS in this last chapter. Um. Sorry about that. U_U
> 
> (I'm actually insanely nervous about this but I hope it doesn't put anybody off, because ilu, readers, I really do. So yeah. Beware of bodily fluids (blood, piss, come, puke), groins being stepped on, severed fingers, being finger-fucked WITH a severed finger... yeah... all the kinks. 
> 
> (Remember how I said blood freaks me out IRL? Puke freaks me out like, 1000000x more. I find it really not arousing. Yet somehow it worked with the fic. So to all you seasoned emetophiles, if I fucked up writing it, I apologize. Idk it as well as other kinks.)

* * *

Slick could move fast when he wanted to. He proved this as he shot forward and smashed his foot into Droog's kneecap with such force it knocked him to his knees. Slick took the momentary height advantage and used it to force the already incapacitated and off-balance Droog backwards against the wall. Roughly, he kicked Droog's legs apart and pressed the sole of his shoe slowly down against Droog's groin, stroking him roughly. The pleasure that followed the pain alarmed Droog and he tried to regain some control taking a swing at Slick's leg, which only served to make him step on his groin.

Droog howled with pain and doubled over, only to have his head forced back against the wall and held there at knifepoint. Slick removed his foot from Droog's groin and placed it on the top of one of his hands, crunching relentlessly down as Droog writhed.

"You think you can break one of my fingers without punishment? I can best that, easy."

Slick's free hand moved like lightning, fast and dangerous, and Droog felt a sudden sharp pain and then stinging from the middle finger of his stepped-on hand. He looked down.

Slick had severed one of his fingers clean off.

Droog screamed. He didn't care, in that moment, if he sounded like some b-movie dame from some horror talkie. He watched the blood spurt from the place where, moments before, his middle finger had been. Slick brought the hand to his mouth and began to suck the exposed joint. He noted, belatedly, that Droog wasn't easing up on the screaming. Looking around for a gag, he smirked as he recalled their previous dalliance, and Droog's reaction to tasting his own flesh, and shoved Droog's severed finger into his mouth without warning. Droog winced as the bloody end of his finger hit the back of his tongue. He felt his eyes water and his throat start to rebel and he gagged around the appendage as Slick thrust it in and out of his mouth.  
  
This went on for some time, Slick silently sucking his bleeding hand, fucking his mouth with his own dismembered body part. Finally, Slick seemed to have had enough and ripped the finger out of Droog's mouth, dropping his knife recklessly as he undid his fly and pulled out his erection. He bent the finger at the middle knuckle and shoved the L-shaped digit back into Droog's mouth alongside his shaft. That way, Droog couldn't risk biting down unless he wanted to impale himself on his own claw.  
  
Slick was longer than Droog's finger had been, and this time, Droog really could feel the sting of bile welling up in his throat before suddenly he was vomiting around Slick, the fluid spilling out of his mouth and down his chin. Slick withdrew in disgust and Droog spat his finger out, coughing.  
  
"That's pretty fucking disgusting, even for you," Slick scolded, and shuffled closer to Droog's head. He wiped the worst of the vomit off on Droog's face before reaching for his knife again. He pressed it to the side of Droog's face as a warning, his free hand gripping the base of his organ.  
  
For a moment, he did nothing, excepted glare at the still-heaving Droog with a look of concentration on his face. Droog shook and shivered and gulped burning gasps of air and tried to work up the strength to escape. His head was swimming from the hard hit to the wall and he felt like he was going to be sick again.  
  
"Slick, what are you - augh!"  
  
Droog's words were cut off when an acidic spray of salty heat hit him in the face, getting in his mouth and eyes. He blinked and spat and reached blindly out to push Slick away only to remember the knife when it cut faintly into his cheek.  
  
Slick, for his part, seemed to be enjoying himself, a wide, pointy grin on his face as he guided the stream of his piss over Droog's face, washing the vomit away, and then leading it down to Droog's healing chest, making him wince as it stung, before moving lower still, pissing directly on Droog's erection, which strained in his pants.  
  
"You get hard from anything I do to you," he sneered, shaking himself off so that the few last drops of his urine hit Droog in the face.  
  
Droog was shaking with rage and something more vulnerable, his jaw set and his fists clenched at his side, blood slowly dripping from the wounded hand. You'd hardly have needed to be a mind reader to look at him and see he was furious, and yet...  
  
Angry as he was, he didn't deny Slick's insult.  
  
Slowly his eyes lowered in tentative surrender, only to fly open again as Slick dropped his knife. He glared defiantly up at the smaller male, his mouth curled into a hideous frown, blood and vomit still smeared on his lips.  
  
It was a challenge, Slick realized. He wasn't surrendering. He was just changing the game.  
  
Fortunately, Slick was a fast learner, and he wanted to play.  
  
"You're going to suck me again. Don't fucking throw up this time. Use your teeth and I'll cut your prick off to go with your finger."  
  
Droog said nothing, but something flickered in his eyes that showed he understood. Slick slid forward into the wet heat of Droog's mouth, surprised by how little resistance he felt. Droog seemed reluctant to do much with his lips or tongue, whether it was because he was new to giving head, or because he was trying not to throw up, Slick didn't know. He began to fuck Droog's mouth and when his subordinate let him, started driving deeper and deeper down Droog's raw, aching throat. Somewhere along the way, Droog started to dry heave, the involuntary motions making for an interesting play of sensation on Slick's organ. He felt his orgasm rushing up on him without warning and drove forward, shooting his load down Droog's throat.  
  
When he pulled out he was amazed and inspired to see that the furious fighting look hadn't left Droog's eyes. Could he even be broken? The more he pushed it, the more he wanted to know. Droog coughed wetly, and grimaced at the taste of vomit mixed with come. He shifted his hips awkwardly to remind Slick of his hardness.  
  
"What about making me shit blood?" he said, and despite the slight waver of fear in his voice, he had a look of fixated obsession in his eyes that made Slick weak in the knees.  
  
"You asking for round two?"  
  
"I don't think you have the stamina for that," Droog said flatly. "But a hand job would be nice."  
  
Filing the insult away to deal with later, Slick gestured for Droog to get out of his soaking trousers, which he did, ungracefully, the damp fabric clinging to his plating, making him trip as he stood. Once he was bare before his boss, he stood, head held high, proud and insolent as ever. Slick spat into his hand and grabbed Droog roughly, his movements quick and businesslike.  
  
As Droog moaned and writhed, Slick reached for the fallen finger, looking at it with dark intent. He raised it once more to Droog's lips and Droog began to suck on it gently, his throat and mouth too sore for anything rougher. Once the digit was soaking wet, Slick pulled it away, nudged Droog's legs apart, and rubbed the sawed off end against Droog's tight entrance.  
  
Droog writhed at the sensation, his head thrown back with a groan, and Slick pushed the tip of the finger into that tightness. Part of him was immediately glad that he'd had Droog's mouth. There was no way that Droog had been taken before - he was way too tight to hold Slick. Even the finger was a struggle, but Droog seemed to relish in it, depraved as it was, and he came quickly, his walls clenching around his own severed appendage.  
  
Slick left Droog on the floor to remove the finger from his ass, and snuck out of the kitchen to tiptoe off to the linen closet where he fetched some midnight black towels. He spread them on the floor and wet one in the sink to clean Droog and himself off.  
  
As the towels soaked up the evidence of their messy encounter, Slick lit a cigarette, passing it to Droog for a puff he deemed too painful to repeat, his throat still in a terrible state. As they sat, staring at the pile of towels and clothes, Slick's voice, like the sharpest of blades, cut through the silence.  
  
"You're jealous. Of the dame."  
  
"Jealousy's for broads and children. You wouldn't give me what I want... wouldn't let me fuck you. People always give me what I want," Droog croaked hoarsely.  
  
"Well, then we're mutually dissatisfied. People don't insult me and get away with it."  
  
"I think you gave out more than enough punishment."  
  
Slick blew a smoke ring up at the ceiling.  
  
"Droog, the last guy to cross me like that wound up floating face down in the river."  
  
"Well, then, I guess we have a stalemate."  
  
"I guess so."  
  
For a moment Droog and Slick just stared at each other in silence, breathing in tandem. While Droog's eyes remained hard, Slick's began to soften, and he sighed and rubbed his neck.  
  
"Can we talk about this?"  
"Why, you planning to try being responsible for once? Because then I'll be out of a job. Unless all this has been a convoluted plot to fire me."  
"That barely makes sense. I just think we need a solution to this. It's a problem."  
  
Droog frowned.  
  
"It's not a-"  
  
"It's pretty fucking clear it's a problem if I can't come in the damn door without you jumping me. Or me beating you half to death."  
  
Droog didn't reply so Slick stubbed his cigarette out on the tabletop, got up with a grunt, and made for the door. Droog didn't make any effort to stop him. When he reached the door, Slick paused with his uninjured hand on the door handled and looked over his shoulder, cocking his head slightly.  
  
"I'll make sure I'm here tomorrow night. We can have a drink."  
  
"Absolutely not. I don't have anything to say to you."  
  
"Droog, don't be an ass. I'm offering you a fucking olive branch here, just fucking take it."  
  
Droog frowned but didn't reply and Slick departed, swearing under his breath, leaving his subordinate alone in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: what can I even say? I wrote this chapter after getting really pissed off at an essay and having a bunch of shit I need for a con not be buyable because I waited too long to order and found out that a lot of what I want doesn't ship to where I live. So yeah. I'm in a really bad mood. And that turned out to be what I needed to finish this.
> 
> I feel like there will be more to come from these guys in another fic, so keep your eyes peeled for sequels if you liked this one. :)
> 
> Also, to explain the overall summary some more: Droog wants to explore his masochistic side but doesn't know how to ask for it without being seen as weak. Slick asks Droog to talk stuff out with him, but isn't sure where their relationship stands or what they should do or mean to each other, or what he wants from Droog other than sex.


End file.
